Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

Know, Nature's children all divide her care, The fur that warms a monarch warmed a bear.

When I die, I should be ashamed to leave enough to build me a monument if there were a wanting friend above ground. I would enjoy the pleasure of what I give by giving it alive and seeing another enjoy it.

Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.

Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; Bliss is the same in subject or in king.

Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamtrous lapwings feel the leaden death; Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare They fall, and leave their little lives in air.

True disputants are like true sportsmen: their whole delight is in the pursuit.